


Will the Real Stephanie Rogers Please Stand Up?

by Medie



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Other, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's felt out of step every second she's been back save those precious few when she's led the Avengers into battle (and that is still enough to make her shiver in a good way) and time spent with Tony just keeps right on reminding her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will the Real Stephanie Rogers Please Stand Up?

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Lucky Thirteen Porn Battle to the prompts "longing, kiss, wet"

"Well, now, fancy meeting you here." 

Steph stops mid-step and looks up in shock. Tony's standing there, leather jacket and sunglasses even though it's well after midnight, and he's grinning at her. "Tony?"

"So they tell me," he says. He slides off the sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket, staring at her like she's the most fascinating thing in the world, and she is, apparently, because she's _blushing_. "Guess this is where I ask if you come here often." His grin is verging on a leer and she just blushes harder.

"Stop that," Stephanie mumbles, trying to bear up beneath the heat in her cheeks. "Just wasn't done like this in my day."

There were clubs, of course. She'd never quite had the nerve to go to one (besides, who'd want a scrawny little thing like her anyway?), but she'd heard of them. 

She's sure not a one of them was anything like what she's seen tonight.

Tony looks up at the building behind her, its door just swinging shut on the thumping music and his grin widens further. "Captain America plays for both teams," he nods. "I like it. Very egalitarian of you."

She catches the gleam and scowls. "No, it was not a part of the serum."

"No, of course not," Tony straightens, then sneaks a smirk at her. "But wouldn't it be great if it was? Can think of a few politicians who would just _love_ that idea and by love I mean scream and cry like the toddlers they really are."

She blushes right to the roots of her hair and brushes past him, hand raised to call a cab.

"Forget that," Tony says, catching up. "I brought a ride."

She's seen him getting in and out of the sleek, black car that pulls up before them, she's caught a glimpse of the driver, but she still feels uncomfortable when said driver gets out and smiles at her. "Captain Rogers," he says, like the rank means something, and Steph's still getting used to that too. It does here. She's not a member of the chorus line, hiding while some actor plays the Captain for the troops. There's even a book about it. Clint gave her a copy. She's the real deal and its written right there in print.

Tony's wraps an arm around her shoulders, gives her a squeeze, and she looks at him. The smirk of earlier is gone, mostly, and the grin he's giving his driver is a strange sort of pride and she really doesn't know what to do with Tony. 

At least when she's awake she doesn't, her subconscious has been giving her all sorts of suggestions every time she falls asleep. Not a one of them are any good when he gestures to his driver, "Steph, this is Happy. Happy this is Captain Stephanie Rogers."

Stephanie holds out her hand, smiles politely and then laughs when Happy shakes her hand enthusiastically and ushers her into the car. "Me driving Captain America," he says, grinning. "Nobody's going to believe this."

"Hey, _Iron Man_ ," Tony says, looking wounded. "That should be at least worth some kind of thrill."

"Oh, every minute, Mr. Stark," Happy agrees, but he winks at Steph and then closes the door on them both.

"I am completely unappreciated in my time," Tony says, waving a hand. "I should have built a time machine."

He probably could. From what she's seen (and, admittedly, she's not really much of an expert) Tony is every bit the inventor that Howard was, perhaps even better, and that's less difficult to admit now than it was in the beginning. Stephanie crosses her legs, fixes her skirt, and remembers the first time she'd seen Howard. Somehow, she suspects, if Tony were to turn his hand to a flying car, it wouldn't have gone the way his father's did. 

She's not even thinking about what he said when he suddenly looks bleak (well, as close to it as he probably gets) and looks at her. "I—probably shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry?" Stephanie bites the inside of her cheek as Tony rambles his way through what's probably supposed to be an apology (he's really bad at them for the record) and does her best not to laugh. "I do that a lot. I warned you about not playing well with others. That was actually not just about me being some kind of manic control freak. "

Not just. She should probably give him points for being that self-aware. "It's fine, Tony," she says, shrugging. "I would build one too if I knew how." She manages a smile. "If you make it work, give me a call, okay?"

"JARVIS won't let me try," Tony says, looking a little frustrated. "Something about fracturing the space-time continuum and ending the world as we know it."

Steph's not sure who Jarvis is, precisely, but she thinks that sounds pretty smart of the guy. If anyone could end the world as they knew it, she thinks Tony could, and probably wouldn't even be trying to at the time.

God help them if he _did_ try. She shivers at the thought. Hydra used to scare the hell out of her, late at night in her bunk when nobody else could see her fighting back her fear of what would happen if they won, but Tony...

If they'd had Tony, she's pretty sure they'd all be speaking German right now. 

"That's probably for the best," she says, trying for diplomatic. Tony can change moods and topics faster than anyone she's ever seen and she always feels so lost when he does. This future is a breakneck pace that she's beginning to think she'll never be able to match. She's felt out of step every second she's been back save those precious few when she's led the Avengers into battle (and that is still enough to make her shiver in a good way) and time spent with Tony just keeps right on reminding her. 

More than ever, sometimes, that makes the missing Bucky an almost physical ache. She thinks he'd handle this future better than she would (the coffee and those cellphones alone would be enough, she thinks, to make him love it) and she watches Tony talk while trying to ignore the pain that thinking about Bucky brings up. 

"Stop me any time," Tony says, his hand touching her knee. She snaps back to focus and looks at the hand like it's a live grenade. People don't touch her now. She's a national icon and she's supposed to be above all that. People didn't really touch her before, either, but she's seen the internet (Agent Coulson has Darcy coaxing her through it and, well, their first session with Google had led to their first lesson in Photoshop because Stephanie's new body is fantastic, but those pictures had definitely _not_ been her) so she knows people like to think about it. There's _porn_ about her. 

She wonders if Tony's seen it, then has to fight not to laugh. It's _Tony_ , of course he's seen it. Chances are good he's even photoshopped some of it.

"It's okay," she says, then looks at him. "Have you Googled me?"

Tony blinks. "You know, I can be really non-linear at times, but what?"

Steph waves her hand and slumps back. Tony's hand retreats at that and she feels the loss more than she should. "It's nothing." 

"They're not letting you be a real girl, right?" he says, leaning back with her. "Believe me, know the feeling. If I had half the sex the tabloids said I did—" he pauses, then laughs. "Okay, maybe I have a quarter of it or so, but I know what you mean."

Stephanie looks out at the buildings as they pass. "I don't know how to do this." She knows how to fight, she taught herself, she made them let her fight a war (binding her breasts every time she put on the suit, swaggering and swearing like any other guy except for the way she blushed every time one of them took off their shirts) but fitting into this world and everything it offers is a whole other story. 

"The club? Because believe me, I can totally offer lessons with clubs," Tony assures. "And we can enlist that little friend of yours, Thor's BFF with the iPhone, uuhhh--"

"Darcy, and I wouldn't forget her name when she's around," Stephanie says, only half-joking. "She's on something called Twitter?"

"God, that won't end well," Tony says. He waits for them to pull up outside his place, Happy opening the door for them, before saying. "Come on. We need more liquor and less new car smell to be having this conversation."

"That doesn't make any sense," Stephanie says, following him into the building.

"No, but I rarely do," Tony shrugs. "You'll get used to me." 

She guesses so, but folding her arms beneath her breasts, she can't imagine any day where he'll ever be a foregone conclusion. "I guess." 

"So, the going out to the club thing was part of the 'Operation: Real Girl'?" 

Stephanie nods. "Yeah, basically. I thought—this city's _huge_. I thought maybe I could just disappear and enjoy it." She frowns, trying to think of how to explain it, but the words won't come. She wishes Bucky were here. He got it. At least, he seemed to. It wasn't like they really had much chance to talk about the whole 'my best friend's the hottest dame in town' thing.   
"I forget, sometimes," she says, sighing. "I know it sounds weird, but I forget I'm _her_ and then I remember and it's—I can't hide from me."

Tony stops in the foyer, coat half off, and looks at her. His eyes are shadowed. He knows how this feels. _Really_ knows. "Not when they won't let you," he says, leaning past her to toss the coat on a chair.

She moves to stand with him and he sidles a little closer, hip bumping hers, and she leans into the touch even though she probably shouldn't. There are _reasons_ and she's gone over them enough to know that this is a bad idea. "Just to be clear," she says, looking at him. 

"Hit me," Tony says, "Clarity is completely my middle name. Well, no, actually it's my third name, but you don't want to know what my middle name is. It'd make you blush."

She rolls her eyes, but tries for the same level of candor that he's shown when she says, "We're not here to talk are we?"

Tony's pupils dilate and his breathing catches, confirming her suspicions, but he surprises her by evenly saying, "We are here to hide, Steph. However you plan on doing that is completely up to you." 

She guesses this is supposed to be the new, mature Tony that he keeps going on about. Either way, she kind of appreciates the out. "Okay," she says, and leans her head back against the wall. "Because that would be good. Not exactly what I was thinking earlier, but I'm not complaining."

She likes Tony. It took a while, but she does. She likes arguing with him (even though he can be a complete dick most of the time) and she likes moments like this. She tries picturing him in bed with her, hangs up on the idea of being in bed like _that_ at all, and then shakes her head. "I have no idea what I'm doing." 

"Well, that's where you're lucky," Tony says, stepping closer. She can feel the heat of his hand hovering over her arm and, yeah, she's actually looking forward to it making contact. "I practically have a PhD in the area." He pauses, then grins. "You know you actually can get doctorates in sex now. Mostly the study of, but I figure enough money changes hands and there could be—"

She kisses him. Shutting Tony up isn't the easiest thing. Up until now, she would have said unconsciousness as the only answer. Alcohol didn't seem to slow him down, exhaustion just slurred his words, but her tongue in his mouth?

That seems to do it. 

She's not sure she likes the silence, but then Tony's hand slides over her hip. The callouses on his palm catch the light fabric of her dress and she shivers, making a little noise. He responds with a groan and his other hand comes up to slide over her shoulder until he can curl it into her hair. 

When he does, he draws her mouth down to his and she is dizzy with the kiss. Hiding's good if this is his idea of hiding. 

"Okay, I am so going to get a crick in my neck we keep doing this," he says, breaking the kiss and presses his face against her collarbone. His breath is hot on her skin and, yeah, that's good. 

She hums a little. "I probably should have gone without the heels, huh?" 

"No," he insists, his tone this side of, well, _worshipful_ and she doesn't know what to say to that. No one's ever talked like that about her before and she's really not sure what to do with it. She just shifts, laughs a little, and tries not to squirm when his beard skims over her skin. "Trust me, Steph, those heels are a miracle of God and nature. Don't _touch_ them."

"Okay?" 

He laughs. "It's weird, I know. You think you look like--and really? Not." 

She squints. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, it does," he says, grinning. "But we're not going to talk about that." 

He tugs her away from the wall, twirling her around and not even complaining when her hair smacks him across the face. She starts to apologize, but he kisses her and they stumble their way through a door. 

"Oh, now this is something," Tony looks amused as he flicks on the light and takes in the place. "Did a lot of adolescent rebelling, but never did get around to having sex in my dad's study."

She looks at him, then at the room and the sofa behind them, and mentally shrugs. "No time like the present?" 

It's weird that she's doing this now, but not half as weird as the last few months have been, so she's oddly okay with it. She'll panic later, sure, but right now? Tony's grinning at her like it's his birthday and the Fourth all rolled into one and she's grinning back and, oh, hey, her dress is kind of slithering to the floor. 

"How did you—"

"Zipper. Hallway." Tony waves his fingers. "I am totally a master at this, remember?"

She rolls her eyes and then bends over to take off her shoes. She's not sure she trusts herself to just step out of them, but Tony grabs her hand and pulls her onto the sofa with him. "Don't," he says as he kisses her.

"Don't?"

"Heels, leave 'em."

She shakes her head, squirming a little as the leather creaks beneath them. "Is this one of those, uh, kink things?" That's something else she and Darcy are trying to go over (trying because she ends up blushing while Darcy covers her face with her hands and laughs a lot) but it's slow going. 

"Kind of," Tony says, her bra coming away in his hand. Really. Master. She can believe it. "Don't worry about it. We'll get to that stuff later, though I'm surprised—you keep blushing, don't you?"

Steph nods miserably. "A lot. It's _really_ out of my—oh god, that's really, really good."

Tony's mouth is on her breasts and the beard _tickles_ and she wants to push him away, except his mouth is doing something wonderful and his hand is on her--his hand is _on her_. Someone else's hand is touching her, sliding her panties out of the way and stroking the skin and that alone is enough to bring her off the couch with a yelp.

He chuckles, his hand wet as it pushes her back down. "Hold on there, cowgirl, we're just getting started."

"Uh huh," she manages. "I, uh, wasn't ready for that."

"Seventy year dry spell?" Tony shrugs. "A hair trigger's to be expected."

Steph slaps a hand over her eyes. "Longer than that."

"Oh, right," Tony says, kissing the skin between her breasts. "Where no man has gone before. Well, then, nothing like a challenge."

"Challenge?" 

He slithers his way down her body, hooking her legs over his shoulders and, yeah, okay, her legs really do look strangely good with those heels. "Setting the bar impossibly high. Ruining you for all other men. At least all other men who aren't Thor and Clint, because pretty sure Jane and Darcy would hurt you and forget the big green guy. Betty is all sweetness and light until you mess with him." 

Steph laughs. "So, what? It's you or nothing?""

His smile softens a bit, but she doesn't get to see it long. He presses his face between her legs and she really, really likes that. His tongue is doing things to her she doesn't even think she could try to describe, just that it feels _incredible_ and by the time he finally does slide into her (after Tony's brief, naked scramble of 'fuck, where is the fucking condom?' that had made her hide her face in her hands and laugh) she feels completely boneless.

Which lasts about as long as it takes for Tony to start moving. She almost screams this time when it washes over her, her body's so sensitized. When she goes limp, Tony's head is tucked beneath her chin and she can feel the edges of the arc reactor pressing into her and it's good. Like really, really good. 

"Tony?"

"Mmph, _again_? Sorry, Steph, but I am totally tapped out and are you laughing at me again?"

She grins. "No?"

"You are." Tony pushes up, looking at her with a wounded expression "Did you not miss the part where I think I just fucked your brains out?"

Steph blushes, but shakes her head. "I remember."

"Good, because that was some of my best work. Marathon sex—hey, JARVIS, when was the last time I had some of that?"

Her eyes widen with panic when a smooth voice says, "I don't believe Captain Rogers truly wishes to know such information, sir."

"Maybe not, but she didn't ask--oh, right, we haven't covered JARVIS have we?" 

"No, sir," the voice, Jarvis apparently, says. "Captain Rogers' vitals suggest she is experiencing a considerable level of alarm. Introductions might be the best course of action should you wish to repeat this night. Ever. Again."

Steph's not sure who the voice is, but he is right.

"Uh, okay, before you panic and run naked into the night," Tony sits up, hand on her stomach. "That's JARVIS. He runs--uh, pretty much everything. Most kids? They have imaginary friends, but I never bothered with that. I just programmed one."

Programmed--"Jarvis is a _computer_?"

"JARVIS is an artificial intelligence," Tony corrects. His hand is stroking circles now and it's really distracting when she's trying to panic. "You get used to him."

She's not sure about that, but since she's looking for her dress, she's not going to give it much thought. "Did he just—oh god, did he _watch_?"

"Mr. Stark did not engage privacy mode, Captain, but given your ignorance to my existence, I thought it prudent. Visual surveillance was cut out and audio reduced to the recognition of key words," Jarvis says. "As such, I did not 'see' a thing."

"Yeah, I probably should have mentioned JARVIS," Tony says, having the good grace to look sheepish. "Sorry?"

Steph slaps a hand over her eyes and slumps backward. "Apology accepted."

"Don't worry," Tony says, leaning over to kiss her. "I'll make it up to you later. I'm good at that too."

"You'd better be," she says, still blushing. "You're going to need it."


End file.
